December 13th
by chaosattractor
Summary: Mello's birthday brings Matt to the age-old question of what to get for the man who already has everything. Just a fun, dirty little one-shot for Mello's birthday. EDIT: Now with a second chapter and a higher rating because people asked for it.
1. Chapter 1

A hand slipping along his torso, lips brushing lightly against his face. Mello awoke instantly. There was the familiar moment of panic and confusion, a holdover from his Mafia days, but this morning he mastered it without even twitching. He smiled to himself. Another month or two and he might actually get used to waking up with Matt next to him.

He opened his eyes and found himself gazing up into Matt's emerald green ones. "Morning," he said. "What's with you today?" Matt waking before him was quite a rarity.

"Happy birthday," responded Matt.

Mello's eyes widened. "You remembered!" The redhead hadn't said a word about it during recent weeks, and Mello hadn't reminded him. He had weighed the potential awkwardness of insisting that Matt celebrate his birthday properly against his probable level of enjoyment of that celebration, and had decided that it wasn't worth it. What were they going to do, have balloons and birthday cake while Kira hung over their heads? Not likely.

Yet Matt had remembered, against all odds. Mello was surprisingly touched.

"Yeah," agreed Matt wryly. "You didn't think I would? C'mon, give me _some _credit here. Look, I even woke up."

Mello stared at him in bemusement. "You woke up early for my birthday?"

"Uh huh. So I could give you a birthday blow job first thing in the morning."

"Really?" But Matt had already ducked underneath the covers, and it quickly became apparent that he meant exactly what he said. Mello laughed in delight. He reached down to grab Matt's hair. "Get over here! If this is for my birthday, then we're going to be 69."

"No objections here," said Matt, his tone far more cheerful than Mello had ever heard out of him at this hour of the morning.

Time ticked by. Eventually, Matt rolled off of him with a satisfied sigh. Mello grinned and wrapped his arm around one of Matt's thighs. "You're pretty agreeable today," he said. "I should have birthdays more often."

Matt just laughed and kissed his hip. "If only." Then he sat up to grab a chocolate bar from the night stand and toss it to Mello. "All right. You eat this while I shower, and then you can shower. 'Kay?"

"Sure," agreed Mello easily.

Some thirty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, lacing his pants and glaring in irritation as leather stuck on his damp skin. The scent of food hit him immediately. The sound of music registered a second later. The Rolling Stones, Matt's music. Part of Mello was annoyed that Matt wasn't playing hismusic, since it was his birthday, but most of him acknowledged that Matt had no way of knowing what his music _was_. He hadn't told him what he liked. Now it occurred to him belatedly that he probably should. They were a couple now, after all, and that was the sort of thing that couples did. He resolved to take some time for that later today, and entered the kitchen.

He stopped and stared. Matt was standing in front of the stove with a spatula in his hand, clad only in jeans, smoking a cigarette and humming along with the music absently. It was probably the single most mundane, domestic thing he had ever seen the redhead do.

Mello laughed. He felt a surge of affection for his lover, who could still surprise him even now. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Matt's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. "Oh, Matty, you make such a good little housewife."

Matt made as if to elbow him. "Ass." His tone was accusatory, but he rested his head against Mello's and didn't follow through with the elbow. Mello kissed his neck, then peered curiously over his shoulder at the pan on the stove.

"What's this?"

"It's breakfast, obviously," answered Matt, as if there was nothing unusual about it. "Chocolate chip pancakes. Have a seat, I'll bring them over."

Bemused beyond words, Mello did. He had to admit, he was impressed. He didn't normally eat breakfast. Cooking pancakes meant that Matt had not only gone out and bought the ingredients in advance, but had done some thinking to figure out a breakfast food that would appeal to him. That required planning. He clearly hadn't just recalled Mello's birthday the night before. In fact, it was possible that he'd never forgotten it in the first place.

Minutes later, Matt served them each a plate of pancakes. Mello noted with some amusement that Matt's had blueberries in them rather than chocolate chips. He placed butter, syrup and chocolate sauce on the table. Mello immediately grabbed the chocolate sauce, and Matt eyed him.

"I was afraid you'd go for that," he said disapprovingly.

"What's the problem?"

"You're supposed to eat _syrup_ on pancakes," said Matt, pouring the condiment in question over his. "Not chocolate sauce. _That—_" he gestured at Mello's plate with his fork. "—is un-American."

Mello swallowed a wince. He wondered what Matt would say if he told him that he had driven the last president to suicide. It probably didn't get any more un-American than that.

He shoved that dark thought determinedly away. He refused to let such things ruin his birthday celebration. Instead, he crammed a huge bite of chocolate-drenched pancake into his mouth while Matt watched. "What are you going to do about it?" he attempted to say, but his mouth was so full that the words were unintelligible.

Matt laughed so hard that he had to cover his face with his hands before he could stop. "How old are you turning, again?" he said when he could speak. "Thirteen?"

Mello swallowed and grinned back. "This is…these are actually really good, Matt."

"Try not to sound so surprised."

He realized belatedly that he had let quite a bit of disbelief creep into his tone. "I just meant…I didn't know you could cook pancakes." Or anything, for that matter.

"Please. Pancakes are incredibly easy to make." He mock-glared at Mello. "Don't insult me."

Mello held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Of course you can cook pancakes. What am I thinking."

"That's right." Matt took two more bites before he softened. "Actually, I did do a test run the other night when you were out."

Mello snorted with laughter. He reached out and laced his fingers through Matt's. "Thank you," he said. "This is delicious. This is…this is the best birthday present I've had in years."

"This isn't your present yet." Matt squeezed his fingers. "I do have some presents for you, though." Mello arched an eyebrow questioningly at him, and he hopped up.

A moment later, he returned with a box in his arms. He made space on the table and plopped it down in front of Mello. Mello quickly opened it and found that it was full of chocolate bars. He smiled. "Oooh, chocolate. How'd you know?"

"But that still isn't your real present." Mello glanced at him in surprise. "I tried to think of what I should get you for your birthday, but…well, I figured that given your…uh, occupation…you've probably had just about every material possession you ever wanted already." He shrugged apologetically. "So I thought about what you really might want most for your birthday and um…" He lowered himself onto Mello's lap, straddling his thighs. "I decided that today I'll do whatever you want, without argument or complaint."

Mello took a moment to process this. Did he really mean…? But yes, the slight blush that was already on his cheeks proved that he did. "Anything?" he repeated coyly.

Matt nodded. "Anything."

"I'm going to tie you down and have my way with you," warned Mello.

"Okay."

"I'm going to gag you and stick a vibrator in you and then just watch you squirm."

Matt didn't even flinch. "Okay."

"I'm going to drag you to a club to dance with me and then fuck you in the bathroom."

"Okay. Look, I said whatever you want, and I mean it." His eyes were earnest, despite the embarrassed flush that had turned his face bright red.

Mello laughed gaily. He would have to choose wisely; he couldn't waste such a singular opportunity. The possibilities that bloomed within his mind were endless. The limiting factor was actually going to be stamina. He dug his fingernails lightly into the skin of Matt's back. "Today is going to be a great day," he said. "You're going to be _mine._"

"I'm that every day," said Matt softly. He leaned in to kiss him deeply. "Happy birthday, Mihael."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Beware - the second chapter is a lot smuttier than the first, which is why I upped the rating to M when I added it. _

"You look gorgeous, you know."

Matt gave him a nonplussed look, but he kept his mouth shut. Mello grinned. He had dressed the redhead for tonight's outing. He was wearing tight flared jeans, a black vest that laced up the front and a leather jacket. The clothes had come out of Mello's closet, since he had not wanted to waste any part of today shopping. The afternoon had been spent much more productively on sex, cake, more sex, a little bit of cuddling and dinner. The jeans had been chosen because they were the only denim item that Mello owned, the jacket because it was the least flashy article in his closet, and the shirt because it had stripes, albeit vertical ones made of different types of black material. They were also among Mello's most modest clothes, revealing less than an inch of Matt's bare hips.

"Every eye's going to be on you the moment we walk through that door," he said.

"Yeah…that's kind of what I'm afraid of." Matt slammed the cab door shut and stepped onto the curb, hugging himself. "Do you think maybe you could walk in ass-first? Then nobody'll even be tempted to look at me."

Mello just laughed and put an arm around his shoulders to lead him toward the front of the club. Matt winced and did a strange half-shimmy. "I swear, I don't know how you wear pants like this all the time. They're riding right up my—whoa." He had finally noticed the front of the nightclub. "There's a line to get in this place. There's a carpet…a fucking pink carpet on the sidewalk for people to stand on." His jaw hung open. "This place looks fucking classy." Mello hid a grin as he watched Matt mentally review the statements that had just emerged from his mouth and arrive at a conclusion. "I'm not cut out for places like this."

"Trust me, in a little while you won't even care. We're going in." He took Matt's arm and led him to the door.

"But the line," protested Matt.

"There's no line for us," said Mello smugly.

"Are you sure about—" He broke off when the bouncer took notice of them. He was six feet of solid muscle; the suit he was wearing did nothing to disguise his purpose. Matt hung back behind Mello as they approached, which amused him to no end.

The bouncer gave him a jaundiced look. "The line's over there."

Mello pushed his hood back and cocked his head at the man. "I'm Mello."

The man's eyes widened and he sized him up anew. Mello saw him take in the leather outfit, the blonde hair, the scar on his face and his male companion, and match reality with rumor.

His attitude changed immediately. "My mistake. Please come inside." He inclined his head towards Matt. "Welcome, sir." He opened the rope that blocked off the entrance and waved them in.

As soon as they were inside, Matt turned to him questioningly. But before he could do more than open his mouth, an attendant appeared to take their coats. Then he ushered them into the club's main room.

"Whoa," murmured Matt, stopping dead to take in his surroundings. Mello grinned. He had been similarly impressed on the single other occasion that he had been here. Illumination came from artfully decorated pastel columns that stretched upwards from the floor. The entire ceiling was mirrored and accented by tasteful patterns of colored lights. Girls in cocktail dresses ferried martinis with glowing ice cubes from the bar to the patrons.

A hostess approached and escorted them to a table, which was furnished with a circular couch and inset below floor level. Matt walked down the stairs judiciously, lifting each foot cautiously, like he expected to trip and fall flat on his face at any second. Once they were seated, the girl informed him that the manager, the owner and several individuals whose names he didn't recognize were all available to meet him if he wished. He negated that idea quickly. He wanted to spend this evening with Matt, not get caught up in acquainting himself with the new Mafia leadership of New York. Instead, he motioned her in close, whispered to her exactly what he did want, slipped her some money and sent her on her way.

He had barely settled back in his seat before a second girl appeared with two martini glasses on her tray. They were filled with brown liquid. She informed him that it was something the bartender thought they might appreciate, and they should enjoy them on the house. Then she slipped away and left them alone at last.

Mello could feel Matt's eyes burning accusatory holes in the side of his face, but he didn't meet them. Instead, he reclined with his hands behind his head. "I wonder what this is," he commented lightly, picking up one of the drinks and sipping at it. "Mmm. Chocolate."

"Mello!" exclaimed Matt finally. He raised his eyes questioningly at the redhead. "Don't—don't you look at me like nothing's out of the ordinary here! Am I missing something? Did you used to live in New York City and you just didn't tell me? How does everyone know who you are?"

"The Mafia's a worldwide organization, Matt." He let his tone be just the slightest bit patronizing.

Matt fixed him with a penetrating stare. "So do you know these people?"

"No," replied Mello with a smug grin. "But they know me."

"Gee," said Matt sardonically. "And you didn't want to grace the owner and the manager with your royal presence? They'll be _so _disappointed!"

"Maybe," said Mello airily. "But I'm trying to keep a low profile."

Matt snorted. "Right. You don't know the _meaning _of the words 'low profile.'"

That gave Mello pause, because he had no ready retort. It was true that coming here meant drawing attention to himself by definition. It was inevitable that he would end up coping with a flurry of well-meaning family members trying to meet and greet him. He could have taken Matt somewhere that wasn't Mafia-run, where they would have remained anonymous. He had come here ostensibly because no one would harm them within these four walls, and that much was true, but was it really the smartest option?

There was another reason why he had chosen this place, he realized. On some level, he _wanted_ Matt to catch a glimpse of the life he used to lead. He wanted to dazzle the redhead with his power and importance. He was trying to impress him.

It was childish, really. Mello felt a twinge of guilt for enjoying Matt's discomfiture. He reached out and placed his hands over one of Matt's. "Matty, tonight's going to be a lot of fun." He ran his thumb back and forth across his knuckles. "I love you. You know that, right?"

Matt stared at him in blank astonishment. "What are you suddenly trying to make up for? You didn't break one of my gaming systems in the past thirty seconds, did you?"

Mello could only burst out laughing. That was his Matt—bright enough to read every flicker of his changeable moods, but oblivious enough to completely miss the reasons behind them. He almost spilled their drinks in his haste to lean across the table and kiss him.

When it was over, Matt chuckled and met his eyes from an inch away. "What kind of game are we playing tonight, Mello?" he said softly.

The waitress chose that moment to return, so Mello just smirked at him in response. She dropped off four shot glasses full of rum and, more discreetly, a plastic baggie and a vial that she slipped directly to Mello. As soon as she had gone, he drew two identical pills from the bag and held them in his closed fist. "First thing's first." He popped one into his mouth and swallowed it. He held the second up tantalizingly. "This is for you. Take it." He rested the pill on the tip of his tongue and pulled it slowly back into his mouth.

Matt's bemused smile quickly turned into a leer. "'Kay." He grabbed the back of Mello's head and snaked his tongue into his mouth. He had the pill in seconds. "Incidentally, I didn't get a good look at it," he said as he sat back. "What was that?"

"Doesn't matter," said Mello cheerfully. He knew that Matt had a history with drugs, but he had figured out the redhead's style. His vices were anything that could slow him down or knock him out. Mello was fairly sure that when it came to substances that were actually enjoyable to ingest, Matt knew next to nothing. This was the first test—he wanted to see if Matt could recognize what he had just swallowed. "You're going to take whatever I give you, and you'll like it."

"Hmm," said Matt dryly. "That sounds unnervingly like a summary of our entire relationship."

Mello guffawed. "And on that note—" He pointed to one of the shot glasses. "Drink." Matt did as he was instructed and swallowed the liquid with a grimace. Mello followed suit. "Okay, now the other one."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "You're _trying _to get me fucked up," he said.

"Yes," agreed Mello brightly. "Now do as you're told."

After the second shot, Mello turned his attention to the chocolate drinks. He sipped at his. "Don't you want that?" he asked, indicating Matt's.

He shook his head. "No, it's too sweet. It's gross."

"It's chocolate. It's not gross," said Mello firmly.

Matt wrinkled his nose. "You like it?" He shook his head. "You have sickening tastes."

"Sickening tastes?" repeated Mello archly. "I'll show _you _sickening tastes. Drink your thingy."

Matt snickered. "You showed me sickening tastes all afternoon. I'm still sore."

"You liked it," Mello reminded him. "And I'm not done yet, either. Just you wait."

"Is that a promise, or a threat?"

Mello laughed. The alcohol had gone straight to his head, changing from a burning in his chest to numbness spreading slowly through his brain. He felt flushed and overheated, and the prospect of making out with Matt right here and now was suddenly very appealing. The ease with which lighthearted comments were spilling through Matt's lips demonstrated that he felt the same. "Come on." He grabbed Matt's hand and led him through the club.

The redhead held his peace until they entered the bathroom. Then he slowed. "Were you serious about sex in the bathroom?" he asked pensively.

Mello smirked as he looked over the room's amenities. Before the actual toilet area was a little lounge furnished with sleek love seats and low tables. He could have Matt over one of those couches, defile the classy décor with his bodily fluids. The prospect was sorely tempting. But they had had both already gotten off three times today, and he still had big plans for tonight after they got home. He didn't want to push his luck by aiming for five. Besides, Matt had gamely allowed himself to be penetrated by half a dozen different sex toys this afternoon; Mello wasn't going to make him bottom anymore today, especially not without lube. "You get a pass," he told him.

"Okay," said Matt nervously. "In that case, why are we here?"

Mello slid onto one of the couches and set the vial filled with white powder on the table. "This is why." It was half of the reason why this lounge even existed.

"Mel…" Matt sat down next to him and touched his arm lightly. "Look, I know it's your birthday and you want to have fun, but…is this really a good idea?"

"Don't worry," said Mello, petting his hand reassuringly. "I know you, Matty. I've figured out your problems. I won't give you anything that you can't handle."

"I wasn't thinking of me," said Matt quietly.

Sudden fury coursed through Mello and he shook off Matt's hand. "What the fuck? Where the hell do you think you get off talking to me like that? You're the junkie, not me!"

Matt winced and held up his hands in defeat. "Okay okay! Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. We'll do whatever you want."

Mello glowered until he ducked his head and looked away. "That's more like it," he snapped. He poured some of the powder out onto the table and pushed it into neat lines. Just the sight of it was enough to make his heart beat faster. He had missed this. It had been a long time, and he _wanted_ it.

He took the first line and laughed in exhilaration as he felt the rush of everything in his brain turning on at once. He decided that there was something to be said for going without for long stretches of time. His tolerance was down to zero. Just one line, and he was flying.

As he handed the rolled bill to Matt, the redhead suddenly stiffened. "Ecstasy," he said, eyes wide.

Mello was impressed that he had identified the pill. He had barely begun to feel the beginning of the drug's effects himself. He mentally tallied a point in Matt's column. "Very good."

"Then…" Matt's gaze was quizzical. "You weren't planning on any more sex tonight?"

Mello erased the mark again. As he had suspected, Matt was an amateur here. "It all depends on what you mix it with, Matty," he said, holding up an instructional finger. "Trust me, you won't be having that problem tonight."

"If you say so." Matt picked up the tube and took the remainder of the drug that Mello had left on the table. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed. He rubbed at his nose rapidly. "I can see why you like this stuff so much."

Before he had recovered, Mello leapt up and dragged him to his feet. Matt staggered, and both of them spun in a half circle before Mello caught his waist and balanced them. The found themselves facing the mirrors. Matt stretched against him, exposing inches of bare stomach as he contemplated his reflection. "Wow," he said. "I look really…"

"Hot?" suggested Mello.

"Gay," he corrected.

Mello guffawed and tightened his embrace. "You look sexy as hell." He nipped at Matt's neck and felt the redhead shiver convulsively. "Are you ready to dance with me now?"

"Mmhmm."

Mello quickly dragged him out to the dance floor. He was nervous at first that Matt was going to be self-conscious and restrained, but his worries were unfounded. Matt had thrown shyness to the wind tonight, helped along by various substances. He was all on, smiley and talkative, witty and charming, things that Mello usually had to drag out of him with painstaking care. Mello moved sinuously against him and Matt followed his lead, molding himself against Mello's body and clinging to him. He even let Mello kiss him in the middle of the dance floor, right in front of dozens of potential witnesses. All in all, he was delightful.

Matt, like the junkie he could be, wanted to take everything all at once. Mello restrained him, rationing out drugs and alcohol judiciously. He decided it was time to call it a night when the cocaine ran out. By that point they were both a little unsteady on their feet anyway, and he wanted to get Matt into bed far more than he wanted to keep dancing.

The bouncer offered to call a limo to drive them home, but Mello declined. He didn't want to advertise where they were staying. They caught a cab, instead. Matt was all over him the moment they sat down, oblivious to the driver's presence. Mello was more than happy to make out with him the entire way home.

When they arrived, Mello threw some money at the cabbie. He wasn't sure how much, but it must have been enough because the man didn't complain. He led a wobbly Matt to the front door.

The moment they were inside, they were kissing. Matt's lips were burning hot against his, and he wanted much more. Fireworks were already going off in his brain. He couldn't wait to feel them in his body, too.

Their clothes couldn't come off fast enough. He was pulling at the laces on Matt's vest, and Matt's hands were undoing his belt. Mello hauled him towards the bedroom, tripped on an empty soda can and sent them both staggering into the wall. Matt's hands found no purchase against it and they hit the ground together, laughing. Mello made it to his feet first and propelled them to the bedside.

Only Matt's pants were left in the way. Mello fumbled blindly with the fly as he kissed him, then reached inside. Matt cried out in surprise as skin touched skin. "Oh, god! That's—" His knees weakened and for a moment Mello was supporting him.

Mello worked his hand against him rhythmically. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Wha?" panted Matt. "What do you…sex?"

"While you were this high."

"N—no!"

Mello smirked against his lips. "Prepare yourself." He jerked Matt's pants downwards. The redhead stepped out of them and quickly embraced him again, kissing him voraciously. Mello leaned backwards to fall into the bed.

Matt caught him instead. "I'm going to give you a back massage," he said.

"What?" gaped Mello, unprepared for his sudden return to coherence. Matt's hands spun him skillfully and tossed him face-first onto the bed. Before he could recover from his moment of confusion, Matt had shoved his legs onto the bed and straddled him.

"I said I'm going to massage you," said Matt. His hands came down on the small of Mello's back and pressed in. Mello gasped and arched. Thumbs moved upwards on either side of his spine, then dug in beneath his shoulder blades.

"Oh, fuck—fuck, Matt!" gasped Mello as Matt's fingers moved down over his sides to his hips. Every touch created explosions of pleasure in its wake, almost intolerable in their intensity. "Matt! Come on, do it!" But Matt's hands stayed the course, kneading and caressing his back. Mello's hips gave an involuntary thrust into the mattress. He couldn't imagine how the redhead was any less desperate for relief than he was; they had had the same drugs tonight. "Fuck Matt, don't you want it?" he demanded, his voice coming out nearly as a shriek.

Matt leaned in and brought his lips to Mello's ear. "Oh, yes. Believe me." Now Mello could hear the grating strain in his words that rendered them nearly a groan. "I want it just as badly as you do, if not more." He brushed Mello's hair out of the way and nuzzled the side of his neck, making him moan. Matt's fingers were buried in his hair, holding his head in place as he trailed kisses up his neck and down the other side. The sheer sweetness of the sensation was almost overwhelming.

"Then—aah—why don't you—"

"It's called "delay of gratification," and it's something _you _taught me," said Matt wryly. "Or at least, something you forced me to learn."

His tongue grazed the back of Mello's neck up to his hairline, and the sensation was incredible. Mello writhed, and only Matt's hands pressing down on his shoulders kept him in place. The tongue flicked out again, leaving slick, heated tracks of intense pleasure on his skin. He whimpered.

Matt chuckled above him, and the tongue was replaced by his nose. "I guess this is what they call "getting a taste of your own medicine." You're way worse at it than I am, though." He traced Mello's ribs with his fingers, and he cried out unintentionally. "Do you have any self-control at all? Have you ever had to learn that? You're so spoiled. Apparently I spend way too much time giving you whatever you want, whenever you want it."

The words flowed over and around Mello without sinking in. He was lost in the thrall of sensation. Fingers were on his back, brushing the sides of his face, running down his arms. Everywhere Matt touched was on fire, alive with sensations more intense than he had ever felt before. It was like having orgasms with different parts of his body. He was far beyond words. All he could do was whimper and move in time with Matt's touches. He realized, on some distant level where thought was still happening, that Matt _had_ him. He was playing him masterfully, delivering sensations and getting out exactly the reactions he was looking for. He was completely helpless right now, at Matt's mercy, and he didn't even care. He would start begging if he could only remember how to speak.

And Matt felt the exact same need that he did, but he _wasn't acting on it._

Mello knew that Matt's stubbornness was unmatched. They had butted heads on many occasions. But he had never quite appreciated until this very moment the level of self-control and the titanic strength of will it took to do the things Matt did. Suddenly he understood why Matt had kept standing up to him for all these years when everyone else had cracked and broken. For a moment he could see with perfect clarity the analytical reason why Matt was the only man for him.

The thought was there for an instant and then gone, washed away in the flood of sensation. Mello bucked upwards and managed to bring enough skin into contact with Matt's to make the redhead cry out and falter in his ministrations. For an unbearably long second Matt was frozen above him, his breath coming in ragged pants as he fought for control. Mello could feel him trembling, felt his knees gripping his hips tightly. He pressed home his advantage, squirming to reach his hands back and grope Matt's thighs.

Matt groaned and lifted partially off of him. To his delight, this allowed him to flip over. He reached up to pull Matt's face in for a kiss, but the redhead grabbed his wrists. Mello struggled for a moment, but he couldn't pull free. He gave up with a frustrated whine.

Matt held his arms hostage in midair, then leaned over him and pinned his wrists above his head, grinning. Mello stared up at him, so tantalizingly close, yet not close enough to touch, and panted helplessly. "You do not have me," said Matt smugly. He lowered his body just enough for his cock to brush against Mello's. Pleasure shot straight through him and he thrust upwards, desperate for more, but Matt kept his hips just a little bit too high. "Face it. I'm better at handling all forms of intoxication than you are."

"Yes! Yes! I know you are, you win, okay? Just—come on!" He arched up against him. "Matt—Matt, come on, now!"

Finally, Matt dropped his hips to Mello's and lay down against him. They both cried out at the sudden profusion of contact. He freed Mello's hands, and Mello was immediately touching him, his fingertips hungrily seeking sensitive flesh. "Oh, fuck!" exclaimed Matt. "Fuck, that's fucking incredible!"

"Yes! Matt!" Their hips were thrusting against one another without any real rhythm, just an animal desperation to slake their thirst. There was no need for penetration, not tonight. They were both hypersensitive, craving touch and friction. Mello stroked every part of Matt he could reach, attempting to give the redhead a fleeting glimpse of what he had already experienced. Matt was crying out wantonly. His kisses were sloppy and without technique, just lips and tongue rubbing against his skin, just one more place that they were touching. Mello had remembered how to speak, but he had no idea what he was saying, the words emerging from his lips and immediately slipping away on the stream of consciousness.

The climax was incredible, driving away all coherent thought with its intensity. It had both of them screaming, Mello wordlessly, Matt with a string of profanity. Mello's fingernails left reddened scratches across Matt's back and he fell silent when he no longer had the breath to make a sound. Matt's teeth had sunk into his shoulder. It seemed to go on for an eternity.

Then they both collapsed to the bed, limp and exhausted, sucking desperately on air. Minutes passed before Mello's lungs stopped burning, and his heart was still pounding from exertion. "Matt," he finally managed. "I'm ruined. We'll never equal that again!" Then he started laughing, flying high on exhilaration and drugs.

"I need a cigarette so bad," panted Matt. "But I can't move."

Mello giggled. He lifted one hand from Matt's back and fumbled on the night stand until he found a rectangular box and a plastic lighter. He couldn't bring himself to move his other arm, still wrapped around Matt, so it took him a few minutes to prise a cigarette free with just one hand. "Lift your head."

The redhead groaned as he complied. Red hair clung in sticky strands to his forehead the sides of his face. Sweat had beaded on his skin and was starting to drip down. Mello giggled again as he wiped it away and pushed the cigarette in between his lips. He held the lighter for him as he took the first puff. "Matty, you were incredible."

"Mmm." Matt smiled down at him lazily, his eyes half-lidded. "That was pretty incredible," he agreed.

Mello thought it was funny that Matt had completely missed that the compliment had been directed at him, not the sex. He thought it was even funnier when Matt blew cigarette smoke out all over his face. Matt brought the cigarette to his lips so that he could have a puff. He inhaled, and it burned his lungs and he ended up coughing, and he thought that was absolutely hilarious. It started him giggling again. He bit his lip and tried to stop, but he couldn't shut up.

Matt regarded him with amusement. "You…what's with you? I thought you'd done that before."

"Not with anyone I actually liked," answered Mello.

Matt dropped his head to Mello's shoulder and chuckled, a sound which made him realize immediately that he'd said something he hadn't meant to. He choked. The redhead quickly silenced his laughter, but his mirth grew until his shoulders shook with the effort of holding it in.

"I mean—I mean—it's never been anything like that before! Matt, you know my body like no one else can. Matty. Mail." He lifted Matt's head and forced him to meet his eyes. "I've never felt anything like that, ever. Thank you. I mean…for everything. Not just, y'know, for the sex, but for all the other stuff too." He meant the words to be serious, but his traitor mouth was starting to giggle again. "I mean—I really mean it, I do! If there's some way I can thank you—"

Matt put him out of his babbling misery with a kiss. When he pulled back, his gaze was speculative. "All in all, I think seeing you like this is the best possible reward." He ran his fingers tenderly along Mello's cheek and smiled. "I don't think I've seen you this giggly since we were about thirteen years old."

Mello just kissed him. He knew, on some level, that he was probably making an ass out of himself, and that he would probably care once he was no longer high and three minutes after the best sex of his life. But that was a long ways away. "I love you."

"Mm. Love you too," replied Matt with an affectionate nuzzle. He stubbed his cigarette out on the ash tray and rolled off of Mello with a groan. Mello molded his body against Matt's back and draped one arm over his shoulder to hold his hand. Matt snuggled warmly against him, then pulled the covers up over them. They were both asleep in seconds.


End file.
